


drabbles

by Burgundyrose



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, Post-Sburb
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 15:03:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14475243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burgundyrose/pseuds/Burgundyrose
Summary: trying to get back into writing. will try to do somewhat regular drabblesch 1 - (vriska/terezi) i will try hard to hold on to you with open armsch 2 - (damara) i watched, i let it burn





	1. Chapter 1

When Terezi opens the door, she realizes that it’s raining, and that Vriska is standing there. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Vriska spits out, apropos of nothing. 

Vriska’s blurrier than she usually is, and it’s harder to get a read on her than it should be. Terezi kind of wants to close the door in Vriska’s face and then open it again, to see if she gets any clearer.

She pushes past Terezi before she gets the chance, but it’s not all wasted because it means Terezi gets a whiff of the blood on her - most of it cerulean, but not all - and can smell the bruises already turning a dull, disgusting purple.

Trolls bruised such interesting colours. They took the full spectrum with them on their way to a full recovery, unlike the humans’ paltry two or three shades.

Vriska had done her the kindness of not kicking her cane out from under her, so she grants Vriska the mercy of not unsheathing it when she whacks it over Vriska’s head.

She becomes a little clearer in her pain, stops vibrating at that anxious and annoying frequency and becomes still with the shock of it.

“What the  _ fuck?”  _ Vriska snarls, before whipping her head around,  her hair following after her like ropes. 

Terezi grants her another small mercy of ignoring when several of the knotted braids hit her in the face. Really, she’s being too kind today.

Vriska looks about ready to pounce though, so she stops with the pleasantries.

“You are trespassing.” It’s sort of true. She punctuates the statement by thumping her cane once against the hardwood floor. “Not to mention the blood you are dripping all over our furniture.”

“You should see the other guy,” Vriska says without a trace of irony.

God, Terezi can’t believe she loves this girl.

“Unless they are dead, I don’t want to hear about it. You’re too old to be picking fights like this. Especially ones you can’t win.”

“Who says I didn’t win?” Vriska all foolhardy brashness in her voice, but with careful precision in the way she takes a step forward.

“Your afterbirth of a face says enough for both of you.”

“Like you can even smell my face well enough to see it, you liar. I know the rain fucks with your sight, or your smell or whatever.”

“Is that what took you so long to come home, then? Waiting for rain?”

“Shut up,” Vriska says, which is basically a confession.

All of a sudden, Terezi is too tired for this. Her bones ache with the strain of sitting in a chair for hours, waiting. Her eyes burn with the pressure of forcing them open and avoiding sleep, for the fear of what she’d be missing.

“Come here, you idiot.”

Vriska stops with the pretense and steps the rest of the way into Terezi’s arms, and the movement makes it obvious that she’s favouring her left side. Or maybe she’s just given up hiding it.

“You can’t keep doing this,” Terezi lies. 

“Yeah, I know,” Vriska lies back.

Terezi cradles her head into the hollow of Vriska’s neck, and tries to forget about the thoughts she had had in that dumb fucking chair. Vriska was here now, and she was safe. Well, safe enough.

Terezi realized as if from a great distance that they’d  left the door open. It was still swinging behind them gently in the breeze, letting in a shit tonne of cold air and rain. 

Vriska, the idiot, was crying. “Shut up,” she said again. 

“Don’t make me come and get you again.” Terezi leaves the  _ I don’t think I could go through it again _ unspoken.

But Vriska was always terrible at nonverbal communication - verbal too, for that matter - so whether or not she got it was anyone’s guess.

“Hey, I came back didn’t I?” 

_ No, you didn’t _ , Terezi wants to scream.  _ You went out there to die. _

Fuck it, Terezi was crying too.

“You’re such an idiot,” Terezi said again. Vriska’s blood was fucking with her vision, tinting the world blue. It was an excuse she could work with.

“You’re the one  _ crying _ ,” Vriska sobbed, the word shaking out of her voice and thrown like an insult.

“God, you’re pathetic. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Vriska muttered it like a grudge, but she  _ had _ been beaten into a bloody pulp, so she could probably get away with it this time. “Do we have any band-aids or something?”

“Nope,” Terezi said, popping the ‘p’ and leaning back from Vriska’s embrace with a grin. “We’ll have to ask Kanaya.”

Vriska grinned right back, her lips thinning out and rising until they split again. 

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Rufioh is cold by the time she resets the clock. She’s not satisfied with how it went; next time he’ll stay warm longer, she’ll make him really  _ feel  _ it. 

This time, he tries to fight back. It’s almost funny, really, that he thinks he can beat her. She’s killed him more times than she can count - (her damned fucking inner timekeeper tells her she’s at five hundred and ninety-eight, and she tells it to choke on her dick) and not  _ once  _ has he come close. Even when she got bored and stopped fighting, wanting to see what he would do, he couldn’t deal the killing blow. It fucking sickened her. He’s already forced her to the cliff’s edge, carrying her kicking and screaming the whole way _ , _ but he can’t give her the final, fatal push? He’s a fucking coward. He hasn’t got the balls to be merciful. 

But it’s alright; she can take the last step herself. The fall takes less time with the weight of two, anyway, so she’ll bring him down with her as well. 

_ Except it’s not mercy she wants, is it? _ Damara has time to ask herself these questions during his last breaths - she always strings him along at the end, just like he did to her - and so far she’s been able to determine that, no, it’s something else that she wants from him. She just doesn’t know what yet. 

At first she thought it was his death, but she’s been killing him for  _ weeks _ now, and it’s still not enough. So, something else. Maybe she’ll try to get a confession again.

Whatever it is, Damara is sure she’ll find it- maybe she’ll look in his spleen next time. 


End file.
